


It's Not Fair

by Xnotashamed



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Christmas, Coming of Age, Financial Issues, Gen, Growing Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27051322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xnotashamed/pseuds/Xnotashamed
Summary: Dewey saw a video of a kid who gets an entire room full of presents and expresses his jealousy to his Uncle who has no choice but to tell his nephew the truth about SantaBased on an irl experience with my own nephew
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	It's Not Fair

Snow fell blissfully and silently over the Duckburg marina bringing an entirely too peaceful feel to the world outside. The universe was quiet and calm when the snow piled up atop the sidewalks, roads, and hills. White flakes covering the grass and buildings in a sheet of serene beauty. The thick mounds which formed piece by piece were left undisturbed by man and were visibly smooth quaint hills of tranquility.

Donald looked out his window as the boys sat around the kitchen table and munched away on their pizza slices. He saw the world entirely distorted to the way another may have. Winter meant a heating bill. Inches and inches of snowfall meant an even higher one at that. His stomach turned only days ago when he had to set the thermostat much higher once he knew the blankets would no longer suffice. His boys shivered and shuddered at the low temperature, even inside the boat. They would never admit their coldness to their uncle, though. They knew it was a sour topic. Donald always noticed though and he couldn’t bear to let them freeze. It was his job to protect them and keep them happy, healthy, and warm.

The tv rarely ever ran unless the boys were given special permission and the lights were only on at night once the sun no longer shone through the windows. The bills were barely made as it was, limiting the electric bill as much as he could helped ease the torment slightly. The boys were more than content to collaborate on games with their homemade toys and select few store bought ones anyway, so he didn’t feel too bad one limiting their screen time.

Mind still on his finances, Donald quickly glanced at the calendar hanging crooked on the fridge. Today was December 18th, and he barely had anything to give his nephews for Christmas. He had kept a penny jar since the start of the year and managed to save enough money, with a little help from his grocery budget (he would never let the boys know that often he skipped meals to make them happy and ensure their own full tummies), to get each of the boys two presents. One toy and one new winter coat each. Which equaled out to three new toys and three new winter coats that the duck had to foot the bill for. Those gifts, on top of the bag of assorted candies that he planned to use for stuffing the boys’ stockings. It’d only be a handful of chocolates for each triplet, but it was still something.

The boys each hopped off of their chairs in unison and ran giggling and cheery into the connected living room. Stomach growling almost silently, Donald reached across the table and grabbed the crusts Louie had left on his plate. The little teeth marks left around the edge belonged to a kid who was full and that’s what mattered. Donald unashamedly ate the two partially eaten crusts hoping to settle his rumbling tummy even slightly.

After eating the quite unfulfilling left-over crusts, Donald scooped up the kids’ plates. He set on his way towards the sink before he stopped himself. A pair of little eyes met him from the door way. “Unca’ Donald? Can I help you?” Dewey stood nervously, eyes wide, and fingers laced as he all but whispered to his uncle.

“Sure, Dew. What’s on your mind?” Donald asked, handing one of the plates to the little duckling. He really wasn’t helping, but Donald knew it was enough to make his nephew feel like he was.

With his eyes glued to the plate, Dewey spoke up, “I want to apologize.”

To say Donald was confused was an understatement. He set his couple of plates in the sink before helping his nephew do the same. Kneeling down, the older duck looked questioningly into the eyes ahead of him. “What did you do?” Concern and slight panic were there, but curiosity was at the forefront of it all. The adventurous and excitable triplet never spoke in such a broken voice.

“I’m sorry for being a bad kid,” Dewey cried out, tears of inadequacy running down his face feathers suddenly. Pizza sauce still staining the corners of his mouth. Donald scooped the boy into his arms, mind racing as to what could have led to such a break down. His heart ached as much as his cramping stomach as he tried to comfort his now sobbing nephew.

“Buddy, honey, you aren’t a bad kid. What makes you think that?” The crying had slowed and seemed to be a mixture of sniffles and hiccups before anything else was said.

“Santa,” Dewey whispered as he still clutched his small fists to his uncle’s shirt.

“What do you mean?” Donald asked. His heart was sinking even lower now. He didn’t even know why he asked, he already knew the answer.

“When we went to the library, Louie and I watched videos and Huey looked through the books and I watched a video where a little boy went to the living room on Christmas and he had so many presents just for him and he said that he got them from Santa because he was really good that year and I never get that many presents and I know I break the rules sometimes but I’m really really sorry, Unca’ Donald. I want to be good.”

Donald hugged his nephew in his arms tightly. He wanted to cry. He could feel his face burning red. Jones’ anger management classes had just started (just another bill Donald had to pay up. He knew he couldn’t raise the boys without it though) but he had already learned a few helpful tricks. The angry duck just needed to breathe and give himself a minute to collect his thoughts. He swayed as he breathed. In his nose, out his mouth.

What should he say? What was the point in telling the boys that Santa was real if it led to such turmoil? Every present his nephews had ever gotten had come from Donald’s own income. Money earned through hours and hours of working his tail feathers off. Not once had a mystic man jumped in to assist. Not once had anyone done so, in fact. But telling Dewey, that Santa wasn’t real just because he, Donald, couldn’t afford enough presents- It wasn’t fair. He didn’t want to take something so peaceful and innocent from his nephew. He knew he’d always regret making the boys grow up too quickly.

“Dewey, listen to me,” Donald rasped. His already barely intelligible voice shaking, “You are all amazing kids. You are not a bad person in anyway. Anyone who thinks other wise has never met you. You are great with your brothers and friends, and you always know how to put a smile on anyone’s face. You are perfect.”

“Then why doesn’t Santa bring us more presents like the other kids?” The child’s beak had formed into an obvious pout.

“Because-“ He wanted to yell. He wanted to scream so badly. It wasn’t fair that these perfect boys, HIS perfect boys, felt so unfit just because some random kid had a rich family that was willing to splurge on him for Youtube views. If Donald could, he’d fill an entire living room with amazing gifts for each of his boys ten times over. What was the point of kids believing in Santa if it made them feel that much worse? Christmas was just such a hard time.

“Because what?” Dewey squirmed as he wiped his nose on his shirt sleeve.

“Because well-“ He should just rip the band aid off. “He’s not real.” The illusion only worked for families that could afford Christmas anyway.

Dewey stopped pouting and gaped at his uncle. “Yes, he’s real. He lives in California, I think. His sister got as many toys as he did, but the video was about him-“

“Dewey, I mean Santa.” No going back now. Why had he said it? Why couldn’t he think of something, ANYTHING else to say?

“Oh,” the duckling looked down at his little feet as he laced his fingers together again. “Then, why did that kid say that? And why is Santa at the mall?”

Donald ran a hand down his face, guilt burning his throat. He had taken innocence from his nephew and so far, it certainly wasn’t getting any easier. “Honestly, Dew, I’m not sure why people tell their kids about Santa. I told you three he was real because everyone else does. It’s tradition. I’m sorry.” He felt like he was trying to make up for a lie. Well, in actuality that was exactly what he was doing. The lie of Santa seems fairly harmless, but it’s a lie none the less. “Believe me, buddy. If Santa was the one deciding how many presents you boys got, you’d have many more than the kid in the video could imagine.”

“If Santa doesn’t decide, then who does?” Dewey looked up, curiosity replacing hurt quickly in his eyes.

Donald lifted the boy up as he rose to his feet. “The economy, Dewford. That’s who.”

“Who is that?” The duo made their way across the kitchen and through the threshold into the living room. Huey and Louie were deep into some kind of imagination game with two wooden cars.

“It’s something that doesn’t care how big your heart is or how sweet of a kid you are. It’s not a fair system,” Donald murmured running his hand through Dewey’s hair before setting him down next to his brothers. The red and green donned boys looked up at their brother before going off on an explanation as to what game they had made up. Louie flung his immediately older brother the remaining car, and the trio got to work exercising their imaginations. It wasn’t uncharacteristic of Dewey to move on so quickly, however Donald knew it wasn’t something that was going to completely go away. His nephew did have a tendency to dwell on things, even if it wasn’t a continuous thought cycle. Sure, he’d forget for now, but it would come back and bother him some more later. Hopefully, by then Donald could come up with a better response to anything that he could be asked on the topic.

The hungry and now tired duck sat onto the worn-down chair across from the boys. It really wasn’t fair that some kids could grow up completely hidden from the horrors and truth of the real world. Kids who never ever had to think about money or using too much of something. Granted, his boys were only seven for now, but he knew as they got older it’d be that much harder to hide it. To hide their financial instability. He had to shield them from everything that could hurt them, and yet… he, himself lead to some of the pain that he wasn’t able to hide from them. He’d never be able to make enough to support all four of the ducks (himself included), but that didn’t mean it was the kids’ faults. He was still gonna do what he could. And no one, real or fake, was going to convince his boys that they weren’t as worthy as someone else. They would have to go through Donald just to get to his nephews, and that surely wasn’t going to be an easy task.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a seven year old nephew who was watching youtube when I was babysitting them. I wasn't really paying attention to the video because he has other siblings that I was tending to, but he got my attention and started talking to me about it. The kid in the video had his entire living room filled like a maze from top to bottom with Christmas wrapped presents. I rolled my eyes just thinking about how the family made the kid prod around and brag about the mountains of gifts. My nephew was sad and said "Maybe if I stop breaking the rules I can be a good kid and get more presents."  
> It utterly broke my heart. Though he is a little sh*t most of the time, he's certainly not a bad kid. He has a single mom and four siblings (Two of which are still in diapers and one that still is a baby so they cost a bunch) that all have to get presents as well. I did not tell him that Santa isn't real but I did try to tell him that he's fine the way he is. This was just me blowing off steam from the situation that I had to go through with my little man.  
> I have no intentions of telling my kids about Santa, honestly. He just makes for devastated kids who deserve the world.


End file.
